“May I hear your words in dark?”
From my own house, untied (because, sadly, not despite) and with the switch in plain sight (because, not despite), I ask the distance for permission to turn off the lights. Being ordered to instead of allowed to is my longing; satisfied. An order, unlike permission, is attention.
Among sketched intros of submissiveness, narrated fragments, real-time conducted cardiogram of my confusion and steady breathing, and all the simple questions that nonetheless kept me fluttering like on a fisherman’s hook… in the middle of all that there was my favorite moment in the talk: I made him laugh.
“I-made-him” does not sound very sub-appropriate, does it… That’s the whole idea. When that carefully leading documentary voice dropped from a cliff into sudden burst of laughter, I felt like I had been holding a firework in my hand the whole time, just didn’t know about it.
His revenge was perfect: a mental puzzle and a silence after.